


Cursed

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Canonical Character Death, Confused Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), F/M, Good Morgana (Merlin), Grief/Mourning, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Magic Revealed, Merlin & Morgana Friendship (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:42:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27588329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Merlin's dealing with the anniversary of Freya's death, and it isn't going too well
Relationships: Freya/Merlin (Merlin)
Comments: 56
Kudos: 259





	1. Anniversary

It was the anniversary of Freya’s death. That should have been enough to tell Merlin it would be an awful day, but then Arthur just had to go and be the biggest prat that Camelot had ever seen.

‘The punishment for such crimes stands only to be banishment.’ The thing was, Magic was still outlawed. Morgana hadn't yet told her brother the truth, nor had Merlin, which left the two of them unable to do anything as the girl was wrapped up in chains and dragged back towards the Dungeons.

She’d been brought in by bounty hunters.

Merlin could feel his hands shaking behind his back, tried to ignore the look of concern that came from the three people in the room that knew of his Magic.

‘Do you think I was too lenient?’ Arthur asked, looking over at Merlin for the briefest of moments.

The Warlock was thinking back to the way Freya’s smile had been enough to light up those dark tunnels under Camelot, that the way her eyes had twinkled at the sight of the rose was everything he’d ever wanted.

‘A good decision, Sire.’ Merlin stated, wondering if the day would ever end.

**

There had never been someone before Freya, and Merlin was pretty sure there would never be anyone after her. He’d learned a lesson that night, in the moment it had taken him to bring down the stone gargoyle to stop Arthur from killing her there on the cobbles.

Destiny was cruel. It would snatch anyone that got too close, like Morgana, like Lancelot or Gwaine if Merlin ever tried to fully explain the truth to them.

Like Guinevere, if he dared to tell her the secret he longed to spill.

Unwittingly, his feet had taken him down to the Castle’s dungeon. The Guards didn’t stop him, although they did watch him with strange expressions as he moved towards the Cell. Inside, the girl was sat up against the back wall.

It had been three years since Freya’s death, to this very day, and the girl looked just as young as she had.

‘What’s your name?’ He croaked out, fingers wrapping around the bars like he was desperate to torture himself further.

‘Isla.’ The girl whispered, and Merlin promptly changed his mind.

She was younger than Freya. A child of sixteen or seventeen, perhaps, and she was being banished from Camelot just because the Bounty Hunters had thought the King would pay for her head.

‘Do you have anywhere to go, Isla?’ He had to turn around. To run, before he learned that the girl had nobody and that her sentence would likely result in death.

‘I’m a nobody.’ She murmured, a secret that he could understand, and he forced himself to take a step back.

He couldn’t help Isla, just like he couldn’t help Freya.

**

It was, in hindsight, a bad idea to spend time with Bounty Hunters. But Merlin was feeling miserable already, and Arthur was usually one of the only people who could cheer him up. Plus, it just so happened that the King had challenged the Bounty Hunters to some sparring sessions against the Knights.

‘Only let one Witch get away from me in my time.’ The talk on Magic was to be expected. Merlin didn’t care much for it, listening to the depiction of a little cottage with an elderly woman living there.

‘She had a son as well, but he was killed. Woman kept rattling on about a curse on the girl…’ The sword in his hand fell to the grass, the Knights looking across at the sound it had made as it thudded to the ground.

‘Merlin?’

‘Some form of beast, I heard.’ Another man added, while the Warlock felt his heart stop beating.

‘Anyway, the Witch is as mad as a box of frogs.’

Three years after Freya’s death, it could not be a coincidence that Merlin finally knew the Sorceress that cursed his love.

**

This was a very bad idea. He tried to talk himself out of it, hovering in the dark, protected by the shadows. A mile back, he’d tied up his mare and followed the very detailed explanation that the drunk bounty hunter had given, and here it was.

A simple hut, only a short ride from the nearest Village.

He took a step into the moonlight, wondering if anybody would even notice he was missing from Camelot. No, they would be too busy trying to find the escaped girl that had somehow managed to get out of the Dungeons.

The same girl that was standing behind him, wrapped in one of his cloaks with a confused expression on her face.

‘Merlin?’

‘Go north to the Village. Give them the coin, and tell them that their Witch problem is gone.’ She hesitated, but the girl was far too young to ask why he had helped her. He watched as she scampered off into the dark, waited for a while, before looking back to the door.

Freya was dead, but Isla wasn’t.

The Witch wasn’t.

He settled for knocking, taking a step back and waiting for the door to swing open.

The woman didn’t look evil. She was dressed in a simple gown, with her hair tied back. Older than Merlin expected, with a pain in her eyes that he was sure his mirrored.

‘What do you want, boy?’ She snapped, no doubt ready to attack.

He just had to know, he reasoned.

‘You cursed someone. A girl.’ The words were difficult to get out, but the moment he managed to, he knew this was the right woman.

Her mouth dropped open, hands reaching up like she intended to use a spell, and Merlin almost felt bad for her. He muttered a quick spell to keep her from speaking, knowing that the Sorceress relied mostly on her words for protection.

Her eyes widened in fear, and Merlin looked up to the sky. To the moon, glittering down at him like it was watching.

Was it so wrong, to want vengeance?

‘That girl was… Freya, I loved her.’ He finally got the words out, felt sick the moment he had.

He’d loved her, but she was gone.

The woman sneered, lip curling up in distaste. Merlin wasn’t done, nowhere near so. He grabbed the woman by the arm, dragging her out to the clearing in front of her house.

‘You cursed an innocent girl. Cursed her, for an accident she couldn’t control.’ His temper was rising, anger bubbling under his skin as he remembered the way Freya had shied away from him.

‘She thought herself a monster.’ He hissed, moving his hand before he could even think to stop it.

The dagger had been a gift from Arthur, and now it was sticking in the chest of a woman that had loved her son till death. Worse than that, he didn’t regret it, not even as her eyes widened and she slowly slumped down to the ground.

His hand was stained red, fingers curled around the handle of the blade, before he let it drop to the ground.

‘She wasn’t a monster.’ He told the woman, before his heart broke.

Because even after all he’d done, Freya was still dead. The woman in front couldn’t bring her back, couldn’t repair the ache in his heart that would never go away.

He slumped down to his knees, hearing his own sobs grow louder as he scrubbed at his hands with his abandoned neckerchief, trying to remove the blood.

‘She’s dead!’ He cried, staring up at the sky while his Magic attacked the ground around him, charring the grass as his fists hit down.

‘I can’t forgive him for killing her. He doesn’t even know, but I can’t forgive him.’ Fingers dug into his thighs as he rocked backwards, sucking in air sharply.

‘You took her away from me, to prove I couldn’t leave him. But I wasn’t… I’d never abandon Arthur.’ Finally, he was done. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything but drop to the ground, curling his knees up to his chest and praying.

He’d give anything, just to see her again. For her to step out of the Lake that she hid in, to be the woman he’d first kissed, rather a cold, ethereal presence. To be his Freya, the one who’d asked for strawberries and laughed at a rose.

Part of him wished she could see him, that she was hiding out in the treeline, witnessing his fall.

But it wasn’t Freya that was standing in the trees.

No, it was the man that killed her.


	2. Arthur's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As requested :)

It couldn’t possibly be Merlin. Even when it was very clearly Merlin, Arthur wouldn’t believe it.

Why would Merlin betray him?

The King ignored the questioning of his Knights, moving further through the trees as they tracked the two runaways.

Leon had asked what he was going to do, when they finally caught up with Merlin and the girl. When he had to make a decision, to try and understand why Merlin had broken out a sorcerer from under Camelot’s Castle.

It didn’t make any sense. Then again, Merlin hadn’t been acting like Merlin in the past week. He’d even gone to ask Gaius about such a curse, but the Physician had told him this was more of a personal issue.

Personal. What did Merlin have that Arthur didn’t know about?

The further they got, the more he thought back to the Bounty Hunters. To how Merlin had treated them with such distaste, acting cold and distant, rather than happy and bubbly. As much as Arthur pretended to hate Merlin’s constant chatter, the moment it was gone, he missed it.

Merlin had broken a potentially dangerous sorcerer out of Camelot’s dungeon, and had taken her to…

A hut.

The idiot still wasn’t good at covering his tracks, even if the last mile had been on foot. Now, as his manservant looked at the Hut in front, Arthur recalled the story from earlier.

‘We need to leave.’ Lancelot hissed from the undergrowth, and he snapped his head across.

Whatever the secret was, Lancelot knew it.

‘Tell me the truth, or we stay.’ Arthur shot back, knowing he sounded like a petulant child when he demanded such things.

‘Maybe we should go, Sire. This does seem… personal.’ He’d never expected Leon to be on Merlin’s side. Actually, he should have predicted it, the Knight had a soft spot for his manservant. All the Knights did, ever since he’d first stood up to him.

‘Merlin?’ The girl asked, clearly having no idea about why they were facing another sorcerer’s lair in the dark.

Were the two related?

‘Go north to the Village. Give them the coin, and tell them that their Witch problem is gone.’ Although there was some distance between them, Arthur could still hear the words. The bag of coin looked heavy, far heavier than something Merlin should be able to freely give to a criminal, but the girl ran off with it nonetheless.

They were alone, and Merlin was going to face the Witch? Merlin, the same idiotic man that tripped over his own feet, or occasionally just the air, falling and bruising every known part of his body?

When the door opened, Arthur reached for his sword. Clearly, the woman wasn’t very happy to be disturbed. Her lips moved, but considering her eyes stayed a normal shade, he didn’t have to worry just yet.

‘You cursed someone. A girl.’ Merlin’s voice cracked half-way through, and for a second, Arthur thought he was crying.

Over a story? Merlin was sentimental, yes. Affectionate. Empathetic. He occasionally shed a tear when a bird would hit one of the windows and break its neck.

But this was a whole different level of stupid.

Then the Witch went to use her gift. He’d hunted those with Magic long enough to know the signs, went for the sword at his side before Gwaine slapped his hand away.

Merlin said something in that moment, words Arthur didn’t understand, but the moment his manservant turned in their direction, he understood.

His eyes were gold.

Logically, Arthur should have felt the betrayal. He should have shouted, drawn his sword and charged. At the very least, he should have been angry.

But he just felt terrified, and not because of Merlin, but for Merlin. The expression on his face, he looked…

Dead. Dying. Hurting on a level that Arthur could only ever recall when he held his Father.

‘That girl was… Freya, I loved her.’ Merlin dragged the woman out of the Hut like she wasn’t a powerful sorceress, dumping her down onto the floor and looking at her with anger far worse than what Arthur currently felt.

_‘Is there a girl, Merlin?’_

_‘No girl, Sire.’_

The woman tried to laugh. Her lips curled up, like she was mocking Merlin’s sadness, and Arthur wanted to run her through with his sword. He didn’t, if only because he couldn’t understand why he had never heard of a girl named Freya.

‘You cursed an innocent girl. Cursed her, for an accident she couldn’t control.’ The story, the woman that had cursed a girl for killing her son.

Merlin’s girlfriend was not only dead, but she was a killer.

Another betrayal, stacking up as he moved closer through the undergrowth.

‘She thought herself a monster.’ The last word was spat out, and Arthur just had time to see the reflection of the blade in the moonlight before it moved into the woman’s chest. His gasp was hidden by the gurgling sound that the Witch made as she slid to the floor, blood staining Merlin’s front as she dropped.

His manservant, the bumbling idiot that he teased constantly, stood in the clearing with a blade covered in blood.

‘She wasn’t a monster.’ Somehow, he already knew that Merlin was talking about himself. Even before the man dropped to his knees, letting out the most inhumane sound of pain as he went with him. For a horrible moment, Arthur feared he’d turn the blade on himself, but he didn’t.

‘She’s dead!’

Arthur didn’t even know who Freya was.

‘I can’t forgive him for killing her. He doesn’t even know, but I can’t forgive him.’

The ground around him was turning black, a stark contrast to the golden sunlight in Merlin’s eyes as he cried.

Merlin had comforted him that day, the one after his Father had died.

Merlin had comforted him through everything, had always been by his side, but Arthur had never even heard of Freya.

Someone had killed Merlin’s girlfriend.

‘We need to go.’ Lancelot tried again, weakly, tugging at Arthur’s arm in an attempt to stop the final blow.

‘You took her away from me, to prove I couldn’t leave him. But I wasn’t… I’d never abandon Arthur.’

He’d known, deep down, that it was coming. He didn’t know how, didn’t even know who Freya was, but he’d known the girl had died at his hand. His heart cracked as Merlin dropped, curling up on himself by the body as his sobs drowned out the night’s silence.

Merlin had tried to leave him, and Arthur hadn’t even known it. He hadn’t known that there was a girl, nor that he’d hurt her.

Arthur wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do, but his heart made the decision for him. His feet guided him out of his hiding spot even while his mind was still blank, taking him through the clearing and towards the man still tucked up on the ground.

‘Fre… Arthur?’ The hope was quickly replaced with panic, with fear, but Arthur still had no words.

He just dropped down to his knees, hesitantly reaching out for his manservant and hoping he wouldn’t be denied. Merlin’s tears continued to fall, and in any other situation, Arthur would have made a joke about how startled he looked when the King reached for him.

‘C’mere, Merlin.’ He croaked out, tugging uselessly at the man’s jacket until Merlin did just that.

A lapful of a sobbing Merlin wasn’t what he’d expected when he first followed him, but Arthur didn’t care. He just held him, listened to the sound of Merlin’s heartache as the man rocked backwards and forwards slowly.

There were apologies, murmured in between the sniffles and sobs, murmured into his breastplate while Arthur sat on the ground, rather numb.

Merlin was the one apologising, even after all this.

When his manservant pulled back, Arthur took a moment to note the red-rimmed eyes, the gold shining up at him in a mixture of fear and hope.

And, in the end, Arthur knew that there would never be a time when he could truly stay angry at Merlin.

Just as Merlin could never truly be angry at him.


End file.
